The wind's getting colder now, but it's okay,
because I have forgotten how to be warm in this place
I chiseled into the hardpacked ground;
where I can be silently away.
You're messing with your hands.
You're staring at the ground.
You're suspicious.
You can't look at me.
You can't say a thing.
You're suspicious.
The funny things you said to me;
filled with lies you let me believe.
You're suspicious.
This hurting in my bones isn't easy to explain,
but I guess that dying feels different every time.
So I don't pay it any mind.
I'm taking back and keeping to myself
whatever I've got left-
it's easy.
Too easy.
You're messing with your hands.
You're staring at the ground.
You're suspicious.
You can't look at me.
You can't say a thing.
You're suspicious.
The funny things you said to me;
filled with lies you let me believe.
You're suspicious.
